


Hear You Roar

by ourcrashdownblue



Series: Multi-Dimensional Wavelength of Celestial Intent [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad dragon toys, Biting, Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester Friendship, Doctor Sexy M.D. (Supernatural), Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Dom Castiel (Supernatural), Married Sex, Other, Porn With Plot, Roleplay, Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Some Plot, Strap-Ons, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Werewolf Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 09:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30137691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourcrashdownblue/pseuds/ourcrashdownblue
Summary: Prompt: "Would you be willing to do a fic in the future where they use a Bad Dragon toy? Idk I just think that’d be sexy :D Or maybe one where they just are out and about together, hanging out with friends before the sexy times. Whatever you think works!"Or, Dean Winchester discovers that he might just have a...thing for werewolves.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester
Series: Multi-Dimensional Wavelength of Celestial Intent [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869910
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Hear You Roar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [googolplexbrown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/googolplexbrown/gifts).



> I'm sorry that this took soooooooo long, googolplexbrown! But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

“ _Deeper, Doctor! Deeper!” Dr. Piccolo cries. Her slender fingers with ruby nails line Dr. Sexy’s furry back in harsh lines, “See! Doctor, see! Don’t you feel that?”_

_“Rwarrr!” The camera cuts to Dr. Sexy, growling past pointy canine teeth as his hips continue to jerk teasingly just off-camera. Dark hair a mussed-up, sexy mane, and supernaturally golden eyes peer down at the sexy, yet earnest doctor below him._

“Oh boy,” Dean mutters, eyes wide on the flatscreen across from them.

“Dean? Dean you’re hurting me,” Dean snaps his eyes down to where Cas is cuddled up against his side, his spouse squirming under Dean’s sweaty, white-knuckle grip. 

Immediately, Dean lets his hand go slack. Cas only grumbles a little more, kneading Dean’s side like a cat before settling back in. 

_“Don’t you feel the werewolf-itis wearing off? Oh,_ Doctor _!” Dr. Piccolo lets out a moan of pleasure, head thrown back against the gurney’s crisp, white pillow._

When the moan hits a weird pitch Cas scoops up the remote from the coffee table and dials the volume down a few notches.

_“Grrrr…”_

_“Thrust harder, Doctor Sexy! Thrust your humanity into me!”_

“They’ve certainly gotten more risqué since they got picked up by Netflix,” Cas mutters, taking a sip of chai tea before resting the mug back on its bumblebee coaster.

When did Dean’s thighs get so damn tense? When it starts to get too hot in their little living room, he slips out of his flannel as best he can without jostling Cas too much. Dean rubs one sweaty palm on his sweatpants, but even without the flannel his skin prickles.

_“Yes, Doctor Sexy! Yes! Give me all of your great, big, throbbing humanity!”_

Dean hiccups on a sharp inhale, “Heh.”

His spouse doesn’t seem to notice the very _unsexy_ sound he just made, and he thanks his lucky stars for that. What’s wrong with him? It’s not like Dean hasn’t watched sex scenes on TV before. Hell, he’s seen dozens of _Dr. Sexy M.D._ sex scenes, too. And while, yeah, they never fail to get him all hot under the collar--this is ridiculous. So maybe Dean’s always been a little… overly into the whole scruff and cowboy boots thing the good doctor has going on, but this is new. Dean’s never been this riled up from a few moans and some pretty shitty dialogue, his dick has never perked up this fast at exactly no direct contact or promise of fun times later. It’s like he’s fifteen and popping a boner during an episode of _X-Files_ again. At least then he had a good excuse: Duchovny could really _get it_ in the 90’s. Hell, he can still get it now--

_“Ahhh! Yes, Doctor!”_

Dean’s thoughts snap back, and he twitches in his boxers when Dr. Piccolo’s cries are followed by a gratuitously-zoomed-in shot of Dr. Sexy’s ass cheeks flexing. Jesus Christ, Netflix really isn’t playing games, huh?

Dean side-eyes Cas who, as they usually are during sex scenes, looks more intrigued by the camera work than werewolf-Dr. Sexy really going to town with the other doctor. Sneaking a hand just under the blanket thrown over both of their laps, Dean adjusts himself through the pocket of his sweatpants. It doesn’t do much good. In fact, feeling the lightest touch, especially when the camera pans to Dr. Sexy’s claws scratching a perfect arch into the wall above the gurney, has Dean’s lips parting on a pant.

Dean’s no stranger to a good dicking. Cas and he have even played with some giant-ass strap-ons that have given Dean some downright, Earth-shattering orgasms...but this would be next level. Werewolves have to be hung like Colossus, right? 

Y’know--if they weren’t just totally non-real, made-up, fictional monsters. Which, of course, they are.

But if they _were_ real...God, Dean would like to take one out for a spin. The slick stretch of a thick, veiny, werewolf cock as it pounds so deep it thrusts him up the bed. Claw marks sending out fiery tingles across his back. Hot breath and bitemarks all along his throat...

“Unnh,” Dean quickly rolls into a coughing fit to try to cover the moan that snuck past his perimeter. Cas shoots a puzzled look his way and pats Dean’s shoulder blade. Dean holds up a hand and a placating smile, “I’m good, buddy. Spit went down the wrong pipe.”

Cas gives him one more glance before settling their head back against Dean’s shoulder, as Dean tries to sink low enough into the couch that he disappears. When the hot and heavy scene finally ends (Damn, how long was that anyway? Apparently, werewolves have _stamina_ , too.) Dean is squirming in his seat. As soon as it slides into a commercial break, he hits the mute button.

“Dea--”

Dean’s hefting Cas into his lap in an instant, lips crushing into softly chapped ones as his fingers tangle in dark, fluffy hair. Dean whines when Cas draws back after only a few sloppy kisses, but his whine is choked off when Cas gives a roll of their pert ass against the hard line that’s been aching in Dean’s briefs for a while now. 

Cas chuckles as they drop a few kisses to Dean’s shivering neck, “Don’t you want to see how the special ends?”

“Nuh-uh,” Dean grunts, head tipping back to give Cas’s talented mouth even better access, “H-He’ll be cured by-- _unnh_...b-by next episo…”

Cas’s tongue does that curvy little thing just under the bolt of Dean’s jaw, and a heavy rasp that makes Dean’s _everything_ weak, Cas whispers, “Well, in that case…”

Dean may have just discovered a new kink, and he’s sure as fuck gonna have to mull that over for a while--but not tonight.

**v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v**

Kaia wiggles in her sleep, scrunching her nose as her fists twitch above the stroller’s buckle. 

“Shhh,” Dean hushes, rubbing his daughter’s tiny chest over the blanket with one hand and adjusting the other blanket tented over her seat with the other. The breeze feels like Heaven in just a plain t-shirt, but both of the twins are insulated within their own blankets.

Kaia’s features slacken again, little lips smacking around a happy grunt.

Dean’s ribs squeeze and he drops a kiss to one of her purple-socked feet, smiling at the way her toe twitches. Of course, even in his sleep, Jack grumbles when he’s not being included and he too wiggles in his joint stroller seat. Dean doesn’t hesitate to drop a kiss to Jack’s own tiny fist, knowing that these kids had him wrapped around their pint-sized fingers the second he’d seen that blue plus sign over a year ago. His babies are gonna get all the kisses they damn well pleased, come Hell or high water.

“But...what if the frog _wants_ to come home with us?” 

Dean glances across the picnic table, smirking at Charlie who’s trying to remain serious as she douses her four-year-old in enough sunblock to drown someone.

“Kev,” she sighs, rubbing in a little dab to the boy’s cheeks, “What did me and Mama say? Huh? We’ll talk about getting a fish, but _no_ pets from the park. And trust me, kiddo, I’m sure Kermit is more than happy to hang out here with his other little froggy friends.”

“Okaaay,” Kevin huffs, letting his chin drop to his collarbone as Charlie smears the last of the pungent lotion. 

Wiping the remnants off on her jeans, Charlie lifts Kevin’s pouting face up with a crooked finger under his chin. When the little guy doesn’t meet her eye, Charlie smiles, swishing her head this way and that trying to catch his eye.

“Come on, dude,” she chuckles, smushing kisses into his cheeks until a smile cracks across Kevin’s face. And she doesn’t stop until the kid is full-out giggling and trying to squirm away, “We’re at the park--” _smooch, smooch_ “loosen” _smooch, smooch_ “up!” 

Kevin finally squirms away after Charlie’s slathered the last of the sunscreen on his forehead. 

“Mommy, can I go play now?”

He bounces on the balls of his feet as Charlie chuckles, “Go nuts, squirt.”

The little guy takes off like a shot, hurling himself into the tire swing just as another kid runs over to play.

Sighing, Charlie watches Kevin climb up into the tire as the other kid starts to push.

Dean knows the look on her face since he’s felt it on his own a million times.

When the hell did they grow up?

Clearing his throat before he can ruin a kick ass summer day with _feelings_ , Dean grabs out two chilly pop cans from the mini cooler under the stroller. He may not read _Baby_ magazine or watch the parenting tips segment of the Today Show (often), but hell if Dean Winchester isn’t gonna do parenting his way. And his way most definitely includes keeping pop in the stroller and a low key Led Zeppelin CD in the player in the kid’s room for nap time. 

“Here ya go, kiddo.”

Charlie almost startles from her thoughts, slipping back into that easy smile she’s had for all the years Dean’s known her. They both sigh at their first cool sips before leaning back against the picnic table.

“So, did you guys catch last night’s episode?” Charlie asks.

The tips of Dean’s ears burn and he’s glad he just took a big sip to buy him a few seconds.

“Uh, yeah.”

Charlie throws her head back in a laugh, “Oh my god—and that cheesy-ass scene at the end where Dr. Sexy gave Dr. Piccolo that locket with a lock of his wolf fur ‘to treasure,’” Charlie snorts and nearly spills her pop on another giggle, “I mean—Gilds had to pause it twice because we were laughing so hard we couldn’t hear!”

Dean chuckles too, trying to brush aside that pesky other scene filling his mind’s eye like he’s watching it all over again (not that he looked up the scene on YouTube after Cas went to sleep). But it’s kind of impossible not to imagine now that he’s thinking about for the umpteenth time in 24 hours. 

Sharp teeth nipping at his neck and leaving sweet, stinging trails along the sensitive skin, moans and growls instead of words—ooh, or maybe in addition to sexy little roars of ‘mine, mine, min—

“Dean?” Charlie’s arching a brow at him from over top her sunglasses, “Earth to Dean.”

“Wha?” Dean mumbles intelligently, “Sorry, z-zoned out.”

The redhead doesn’t give him more than another glance before popping her sunglasses back on the bridge of her nose and taking another swig.

“I was just saying that the werewolf sexy times were a little over the top—even by Dr. Sexy M.D. standards.”

“H-Huh?”

Charlie ignores him, arching a mischievous brow above her glasses as she says, “Can’t say me and Gilds didn’t enjoy watching Dr. Piccolo moan like she’s on the other end of a Bad Dragon toy.”

Now the heat has crawled all the way down Dean’s cheeks and tingles in his neck. Dr. Piccolo did look like she’d fucking transcended on that thing.

“B-Bad Dragon?” Okay, maybe that’s not the part of that sentence that he’s actually thinking about, but he’s not about to tell Charlie how much he wants Cas to dick him into tomorrow while growling like an animal—a guy’s gotta set boundaries. Not that Charlie would mind. She’d probably laugh her ass off, actually. And, okay, maybe that’s the real reason he doesn’t want to tell her—isn’t even sure he wants to tell Cas.

“You’ve seriously never heard of Bad Dragon?” Charlie beams, “Oh my God, Deeeeaaan. You poor, sheltered little dumpling.”

“Shuddup,” Dean scoffs, taking another sip of his pop and pointedly ignoring the new wave of heat in his cheeks.

“Well, wee one,” Charlie fishes her phone from her back pocket, tapping at the screen for a hot minute before turning it to Dean. Dean just about passes out from all of the blood flowing southward in an instant. _Holy shit._

“Holy shit,” He does a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure none of the other parents are within viewing difference before snatching the phone from his friend’s hand.

“I know right!” Charlie’s squeal turns into a giggle, “Aren’t they insane! Apparently Becky—she was the one chick who kept flirting with Sam when you guys came to Moondoor last summer. Remember? Well, she told me her and her boy toy—Chuck? Doesn’t matter—anyway, they apparently got really into LARPing in and out of conventions…” Charlie smirks and Dean’s wise eyes fly up to hers.

“ _Really?_ ”

“Yup,” she pops the ‘p,’ “Apparently Becky and Chuck really had a thing for those GoT dragons.”

Dean scrunches his nose, but his eyes snap back down to the phone ‘cause, really, he’s not in a position to judge here.

“Whoa, you really weren’t lying about Becky being an overshare-er were ya?” Dean mutters, eyes still glued to the screen as he scrolls. 

There’s just...so many. Dildos in a bazillion different shapes and sizes, coming in every color under the sun.

His mouth is dry and his eyes have no clue what to even focus on. There’s one with swirled ridges in a pastel rainbow like a unicorn horn. A few really fat ones with bumps and ridges that would feel out-of-this-world sliding in and out of him. A handful are long and thick like if some alien-Bigfoot crossover had a cock like a Greek god.

There’s even one that’s shaped like a tentacle and Dean fucking shivers, trying really hard to push out all thoughts of Princess Asuka before he pops a boner two feet from his sleeping babies.

Charlie laughs, “You can say that again. Hey! Maybe I should write a fic but instead of Dr. Sexy turning into a werewolf it’s Dr. Wang and Dr. Piccolo has to help her find _her_ humanity? Huh? Huh?”

“Mhm,” Dean grunts, eyes still not leaving the Looking Glass he just fell ass-first into. Then--he sees it. His words pinch out on a breath, “Oh boy…”

If werewolves were real, and humanoid, and had dicks...Dean could only pray that their dicks would be _Stans_.

Dean’s mouth goes from dry to watering on a dime and he has to force his jaw closed so he doesn’t give Charlie every reason to guess exactly what he’s thinking about.

This dildo is thick with a deep brown base, and a shaft that’s dark-cherry red. The cock is ridged and shaped like a beast’s, a flared head that would feel awesome popping past his rim and—holy shit, does it even have _fake veins_?

Dean clears his throat, clocking off his friend’s phone and sliding it back across the table. As Charlie starts in on some angel character from that _Righteous Man_ series she keeps trying to get him to watch, all Dean can think about is that Gigantor toy and the bitchin’ time he and Cas could have with it…

He clears his throat (again, like a dumbass), eyes glancing back and forth before adjusting himself.

Okay. Maybe Dean is gonna have to talk to Cas about this after all.

**v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v**

  
  


They’ve barely stumbled in from the garage when Cas is on him, tugging off his canvas jacket and scratching blunt nails through his hair, delicious tingles cascading down Dean’s spine.

“Caa—”

“Mmm,” Cas hums back, their lips buzzing against the column of Dean’s throat and making it nine times harder to concentrate. Dean moans when his spouse’s perfect, pointy tongue joins the mix.

“Ba-Baby…” Cas only chuckles, a warm thundery sound that has Dean’s knees going sloppy. He’s trying to calm himself, clear the lusty haze from his brain just long enough to string a coherent sentence together. He has a plan dammit, and as fan-fucking-tastic as just letting Cas spend the rest of their date night fingering him until he’s a begging, wailing mess would be, he’s got something even better in mind.

Dean realizes that he needs to get a grip on himself--and soon--when he feels that familiar coiling deep in his lower belly.

He pats Cas’s shoulders, even going so far as to put a little more force behind the movement when Cas seems to mistake his deliberate movements for mindless squirming.

Bright, dilated eyes meet his, Cas’s brow furrowing on concern.

“Dean? What’s wrong?” they rasp and _God_ Dean could get off on Cas’s sex voice alone. Ooh, maybe they should put that idea to use sometime…

Dean shakes the thought from his head, bringing his hands up to cup Cas’s sharp jaw and kissing at the furrow until he feels Cas’s features relax again.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Dean chuckles, pressing in for a much more chaste kiss just for good measure. When he pulls back Cas tries to follow for more, their dark eyes slowly sliding open when they’re met with air. It’s Dean’s turn to chuckle, “I, uh, I’ve got an idea. For a scene,” that seems yanks Cas back to Earth and they arch a brow in question. Dean licks his lips and continues, “A-A scene for tonight.”

“What kind of scene?” His spouse licks their own lips, not even close to subtle as they look hungrily at Dean’s mouth before their eyes drift back up.

“Well,” Dean’s cheeks heat up, and not in the sexy way like when Cas teases his nipples. No, this is the prickly kind of heat that Dean has to do his best to squash down so he can use his big boy words, “It’s kinda...elaborate? And, um, roleplay…”

Cas presses in impossibly closer, confusion turning to amusement, and the two would probably look like the exact same expression to someone not versed in Cas-pañol, but Dean clocks it immediately. He relaxes a little, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. What the hell was he worried about in the first place?

“And what might this roleplay entail?”

“I’m gonna warn you—it’s kinda weird.”

Cas’s little head tilt of confusion is way too _adorable_ for someone who’s well-passed thirty, and Dean’s brain itches with the idea of dropping to his knees and letting Cas just go wild on his tongue...but he stays strong.

“Weird how?”

He breaks into a full-blown grin now, pushing away from the wall Cas had backed him into. He grabs his spouse’s hand, dragging them down the hall to the bedroom where a brand-spanking-new package is waiting for them under the bed, “Lemme show ya.”

**v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v**

The music back-dropping the bar is low and 70’s, probably something Dean would enjoy listening to if he could actually hear it over the blood rushing in his ears.

Glancing toward the entrance for the fifth time in fifteen minutes, Dean squirms in his seat. He rolls the mostly full beer bottle between his fingers. As much as he wants to throw it back just for something to do, he knows that he needs to stretch it out since ordering more than the one Cas allows pre-scene would rain on his sexy parade.

The next time he squirms, however, a nice little zing runs down his legs when the plug nudges perfectly on his prostate before it loses the angle. He scrunches a bar napkin in his fist, biting back the whine that almost escapes him.

He tugs at the crotch of his jeans, trying to stealthily loosen the denim holding back the hard-on he’s been trying to tamp down ever since Cas had been three fingers deep and stretching Dean open for the plug. The plug and prior prep being Cas’s only caveat for the whole thing.

“Is this seat already taken?”

Dean’s crazy jumble of excitement and slight nervousness have him nearly jumping out his barstool when a familiar velvet voice is suddenly at his side.

He schools his features surprisingly quickly, not letting himself start grinning like an idiot when he turns a little in his seat to meet lovely baby blues.

“Nah, buddy,” Dean shrugs, “Go for it.”

Taking another pull from his beer, Dean’s eyes wander over Cas’s outfit. Between the brown leather jacket, the ripped knee of his spouse’s jeans, and the one-size-too-small plain white tee—all of which Dean had picked out—he’s not sure just what to focus on. His cock gives an interested twitch when his eyes wander back up and take in the state of Cas’s sex hair.

His spouse’s shadow of a smile is flirty but not leering like half the looks Dean’s already gotten just waiting for Cas. His stomach does a pleasant swoop.

Cas’s glance lingers on the Jayhawks game playing on the screen just above the cash register. They wave down the bartender, ordering a White Russian before their gaze falls back to the TV.

Dean squirms in his seat, neck already flushing as he inadvertently squeezes around the plug and has to cough to cover a whine.

Cas still isn’t looking his way, but Dean’s eyes zero in on the teasing way their slender fingers circle the rim of the glass the bartender sets in front of them. Skin tingling with each second that all Dean can see of Cas’s fucking gorgeous face is their profile, his fingers tap on the neck of his beer bottle impatiently.

Light, slightly chapped lips curve around the edge of the glass, taking a sip—and shifting in their chair. Still not looking his way, Cas’s legs part a little more and stretch back like they need to yawn...the white tee rising just enough to show a sliver of soft olive skin and sharp hip bone. And that little slip-show would be more than enough to have Dean’s engine revving on any other day, but beads of sweat start to race down his back when his eyes fall to Cas’s lap. The dark denim of his spouse’s jeans does a piss poor job of hiding the prominent swell snaking down their right leg. Dean licks his lips and scrunches his fingers in his own jean leg to keep from reaching out and stroking like he really, _really_ wants to. That’d ruin the game.

“At least buy me a drink first.”

Dean’s gaze flashes up to Cas’s, eyes lingering on the line of their jaw and darkness of their lashes. That shadow of a smile is a little wider now, amusement making little crinkles at the corners of sky eyes. God, Dean is such a slut for those eye crinkles.

“Heh,” Cas’s own eyes give Dean the once over, eyebrows rising slightly like they're actually surprised to find the person sitting next to them attractive. He forgot how downright believable Cas was in pick-up scenes. Dean supposed it’s probably been a few years since they did one. Well, they’re definitely gonna make this a more regular date night activity. Dean rubs a sweating palm over his thigh, matching the spread of Cas’s legs, “I would, but it looks like you’ve already got one.”

Cas’s little smirk widens even further as they angle themself towards Dean, “And that’s assuming I’d accept the offer.”

“I don’t know, I figure you’re not from around here—you might be interested in making a new...friend while you’re in Lawrence.”

“Friend, huh?” Cas takes another sip of their White Russian, and Dean feels like a damn pin-up girl with the way Cas is staring, “How did you know I’m not from around here?”

Dean licks his lips, “Oh, I definitely would’ve remembered if I’d seen you at the Gas’n’Sip.”

Cas’s chuckle is deep and whiskey-warm in Dean’s ears. They lean in a little closer to Dean, one foot moving from the rung on their barstool over to Dean’s, lining their calf with Dean’s in a way that has his palms sweating even more.

“Is that right?” Cas asks, “Hmmm. May I ask your name? Or should I just call you ‘freckles?’”

Dean’s face must be beet red right now, stomach somersaulting as he ducks his head and chuckles.

“D-Dean.”

“Yes. That suits you perfectly,” Cas hums, leg sliding an inch closer. They don’t give their name, just eye Dean’s mouth again. Looks like Cas is really taking Dean’s whole ‘mysterious, drifter, Robert-Pattinson-as-Edward-Cullen’ direction to heart. Even if it did take a second for Cas to connect that the dude from _Water For Elephants_ was the infamous teen vampire.

“So, uh, are you in town for long?”

Dean can’t help it when his eyes fall back to the obscenely large bulge pushing against Cas’s zipper.

“Oh,” Cas murmurs, long fingers moving from where they’re lightly resting on solid thighs to just barely skim over Dean’s knee, “long enough.”

Dean’s throat clicks wetly, eyes falling back to Cas’s lap, “I’ll say.”

Was he always this much of an awkward mess back when he was on the dating scene for real? He used to be able to pick up hot ass of all genders left and right with a wink and a flash of white teeth, but now he’s 0.5 seconds from melting into a puddle if Cas inches their fingertips up any higher. Fuck, he wouldn’t trade it for the world, though. 

Cas’s head tips back in a genuine laugh, baring the smooth expanse of their neck to the air and Dean has to stop himself from just getting in there and swirling his tongue over every square inch.

“I think I like you, Dean,” Cas says, laugh fading back to their usual rough rhythm. Dean takes in a sharp breath, cock twitching, when Cas’s hand does in fact slide up further. They lick their lips as one finger plays with the inseam.

“Yeah?” Dean must be grinning like an idiot. Cas tells Dean they love him every day but there’s still a little thrill that sizzles out to Dean’s limbs at Cas saying ‘I like you.’

“Yeah.”

“Well...if you ever want a tour of Lawrence, I’m your huckleberry.”

Cas’s smirk slips into a soppy grin at the reference before they quickly school it back.

“You know, that’s not a bad idea,” Cas leans in even further until the warm puff of their breath is falling on Dean’s cheek. 

“We, uh, we could start the tour...at my place first?” 

Cas’s other hand sneaks past Dean’s abandoned beer bottle and rests on his wrist, fingers dipping just under his jacket sleeve.

“Now _that_ is a wonderful idea, Dean.”

**v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v**

Luckily, _Swayze’s_ is close enough to walk so they don’t have to ruin the illusion by hopping in their mini-van with its _Baby Einstein_ CD in the player and Wet Wipe pack on the console. Dean had thought about driving them in Baby, but the cool of the night and the slight unease of walking in the dark is only amping up the experience.

Cas snakes a hand into Dean’s as soon as they’d left the bar, and Dean had stuffed their joined hands in his jacket pocket as soon as the breeze had picked up. Okay, so maybe it’s a little too sappy for a mysterious-werewolf-lover scene, but the soft look Cas gets in their eyes at the gesture is it’s own reward.

Cas doesn’t let them stay sappy for long.

He’s not sure what it is with Cas and backing him up against doors, but Dean sure as fuck doesn’t complain when that’s exactly what they do as soon as they cross the front door’s threshold.

“I— _hmmm_ ,” Dean gasps, hands immediately flying up to rest on his spouse’s flexing shoulder blades as they crowd in on him. Cas is kissing and licking at Dean’s lips, nipping until the plump flesh parts and their tongue slips in. Dean groans at the intrusion, unable to stop his hips from bucking forward on instinct.

In a move that makes Dean even more lightheaded than he already is, Cas flips them around and starts walking him backwards toward their bedroom. If Dean had the mental wherewithal, he might make a joke about how this ‘stranger’ knows exactly where the bedroom is, but that kind of higher level thinking flies right out the window when they nudge forward and Dean feels the ridiculously meaty line of the toy in Cas’s pants.

Cas damn near pushes Dean through the ajar bedroom door, and he almost falls on his ass. His breath and heart rate quicken as Cas stalks forward, blue fire burning in their eyes.

“I’m going to tear you apart now, Dean.”

“ _God_ ,” Dean hardly has a second to squeak out a sound he’ll be embarrassed of later before Cas is obliterating the distance, mouth latching onto the side of his neck. Those slender fingers Dean had been enamored with in the bar roughly undo the buttons of his flannel, nearly popping the top one off when it doesn’t give right away. 

His knees are nearly jelly at this point and it doesn’t get much better when Cas fucking _growls_ as they rip the shirt from Dean’s shoulders.

The world is spinning once again as he’s shoved back, sprawling out onto the bed. Then Cas is leaning over him, more forceful kisses stealing Dean’s breath. Nails scratch down his chest, his abdomen jumping when the scratches go all the way down his happy trail and tease at his belt.

“I love your little noises, Dean,” Cas purrs, leaving a sharp bite to his jaw that Dean whimpers at before drawing back. 

“L-Lamp…” Dean stutters, staring up into stormy ocean eyes that are definitely gonna make good on their promises, “Wanna see you.”

Cas chuckles, ducking down and sucking Dean’s plump bottom lip between their teeth. Dean whines, hips pushing into the empty air between.

Then his spouse is gone, and the buttery light of the nightstand lamp makes a little lit-up bubble for the two of them that pushes on the shadows of the rest of the room. Dean squirms in the bed already trying to fight down the itch of neediness under his skin since Cas has been gone less than a few seconds.

There’s a smug smile on their lips as they move back into Dean’s eyeline. Deft hands reach down to work his belt loose, carefully avoiding the aching line of Dean’s cock.

Teasing is all well and good in theory, but there’s a torrent of crisscrossed messages firing in his brain telling him to be a good boy and let Cas set the pace—but also to do anything and _everything_ in his power to get some goddamn relief.

Cas arches a brow at Dean’s wriggling hips, finally unfastening his jeans.

“I bet your little cock wants some attention, doesn’t it?” Cas growls. 

Dean shivers, nodding and biting his sore lips.

Cas yanks the jeans down to his thighs, the sudden chill making goosebumps ripple along his hairy legs. Then Cas is climbing onto the bed, too. They push his bowed legs on either side of them, settling into the valley of his hips.

Dean starts to rise to meet the sugar sweet lips he can’t get enough of when firm hands on his shoulders force him back flat. If Dean was still in his twenties that alone would’ve had him shooting off like a bottle rocket embarrassingly early.

“No,” Cas growls, fingers threading into his short strands and forcing Dean to bare himself. They eye Dean’s neck, gaze almost as forceful as the hand in his hair. Cas licks their lips, “Mine.”

“ _Auhhhh_ ,” Moaning, his eyes slam shut and fucking _ascends_ as Cas goes for the gold. Shoving their face down into the crook of his neck, Cas mouths hot and wet over Dean’s sensitive skin. Sighs and grunts punching out of his chest as that familiar, sparkly feeling makes his legs tingle.

Some distant corner of his mind registers that Cas isn’t using his teeth yet since he’s macking well above collar level and Dean can’t go to work with hickies on his neck like some damn teenager. But the part of his brain that’s currently behind the wheel squirms, whining for more. More tongue, more teeth, _more more more_.

Instead, Cas shifts their weight down even further, forcing Dean to sink back and fuck if that isn’t an A+ distraction as Cas’s lips move below his Adam’s apple. The thick muscle of Cas’s tongue swirls and undulates in the little dip of his collarbone and a choked sound pushes straight past Dean’s parted lips, completely bypassing his brain.

“Dean...you just taste…” the words float like bubbles across his skin and he arches up with a groan at the first swipe of that pointy tongue over a nipple.

“Ca--” he bites his lip before he can whimper the name he’s not supposed to know, “Baby, please, please…”

Cas fucking _purrs_ at that, pushing up to hover over him, “I’ve been gentle so far--” Dean hisses as their teeth graze over one puffy nipple in a decidedly _not_ -gentle way that has his cock jumping against Cas’s hip, “but that’s _my_ choice, and I _choose_ to be gentle for good boys only. And good boys, Dean, take what they are given. Do you understand?”

There isn’t a part of that sentence he doesn’t understand and it feels like Cas is setting out a fucking buffet just for him. He nods about quick as his head will go without breaking his neck.

Sharp pleasure-pain suddenly blossoms from Dean’s nipple, dragging a pitiful sound out of him. Cas is simply staring up at him with the sensitive nub still pulled between their teeth, when Dean’s squeezed eyes open enough to meet Cas’s gaze and the fucker rolls their jaw, sending another round of fireworks bursting beneath his skin. He’s seeing fucking _stars_ and Cas hasn’t even gotten to the main event.

“Say it, Dean. Good boys use their words,” the words almost feel like a living thing, ghosting across his nipple, “Do you understand?”

“Ye-- _ahhh_...Yeah, yeah I-I understand.”

The soothing heat of tongue laves over the abused nub at the same time Cas’s pinching fingers play with the other sending two very different lightning bolts straight to his cock. Speaking of cocks…the still functioning parts of Dean’s brain lights up when he once again recognizes the thick line pressing into his thigh. Cas is rutting down against him, even as their concentration is almost entirely directed at biting him into oblivion. He’s gotta give his baby props for really getting into character with this--Dean’s really gonna go all out with the angel/demon roleplay (yeah, Charlie got Cas hooked on that _Righteous Man_ show, too) that he’s got planned for Cas’s birthday... 

All thoughts melt like ice cream cake, however, when the words start flowing from Cas’s beautiful lips.

“You’re mine aren’t you, Dean?” _Bite, kiss, bite_ “My good boy?” their fingers trail over the oval marks, still spit-slick, “You look perfect with my marks. Everyone will know you’re mine—isn’t that right?”

Dean’s gonna die. He’s fucking dying and loving every second if it.

“Y-Yea…”

“‘Yes’ indeed,” the bites start to drag lower, finally abandoning Dean’s raw nipples to make criss crosslines down his exposed belly. It’s humid breath and the electric zap at each new sensation.

Dean’s fingers are scrabbling now in the crumpled comforter, he’s trying and trying to keep his hips still--it’s a fucking relief when Cas finally starts manhandling him out of his jeans. 

First the button is popped, and Cas licks a long, claiming stripe just above the waistband of Dean’s boxers--bright blue eyes never leave his own. A shiver tingles down Dean’s spine, “This is _mine_...”

Rough fingers yank down the elastic with the thick band of his jeans, and even the sweaty air of the room feels cool against Dean’s exposed cock.

“Pl--” Dean bites down on his lip at the arched brow Cas shoots his way, a perfect fire burning behind the blue.

“What was that?”

“N-Nothing.”

The squinty eyes Dean would find damn near adorable any other day of the week are fucking commanding in the dim lamplight, those slightly chapped lips less than an inch from where Dean really, _really_ wants them.

“Hmm,” Cas gives an unamused hum and one last warning glance before directing their attention back down, making Dean’s thighs goddamn _quiver_ in anticipation. 

From one hitched breath to the next, the sudden heat and soft wetness of Cas’s mouth is engulfing him.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Cas hardly gives a second of build up before they’re sliding and swallowing and blowing Dean’s fucking brains out. Cas had long since learned how to deepthroat without batting an eye, and while that’s what they usually did when they had Dean at their mercy like this, something was different. Each glorious suck is hard and tingling, but stops at the fist Cas keeps between their mouth and Dean’s shaking hips. What the hell are they-- “Jesus _fuck!_ ”

Every muscle in his body tightens at the brilliant burn of teeth scraping slowly up the length of his cock. The coil resting low in his hips tightens impossibly, and the sudden sensation almost has him coming early.

His hands scrabble their way into Cas’s tangled dark hair, fingers pulling and grabbing enough that a low growl drops from their lips. Blunt nails dig half-moons into his hips, Dean yelps and squirms and then writhes at the look Cas is giving him. The grip grows tighter the more he moves, a delightful little sting that radiates in perfect harmony with the brilliant stinging of his cock.

“T-Too--too…”

Cas’s eyes narrow in, the intensity of their gaze should be undercut by the bulge of Dean’s cock between their lips but it doesn’t. If anything, Cas holding such a delicate part of Dean is almost more owning than any words Cas could say right now.

His spouse’s lips pull away with an obscene pop, and Dean shivers at the feel of cooling saliva on his slit.

 _Jesus Christ_ , he can actually _see_ the pink scraping lines on his dick. His eyes roll back into his skull and he smacks his swollen lips.

Without taking their eyes off Dean’s face, Cas’s tongue flicks across the head and his muscles twitch with each pass.

“Too sensitive?”

Dean’s lips part even farther as he nods, “Mhmm…”

“Good.”

Without another second’s hesitation, Cas slides right back down in one fell suck. Dean’s head whips back and he howls again because _teeth_ and it’s riding the good-bad line, almost the kind of pain he’d tap out on—

Either his sounds must’ve changed or Cas is fucking psychic when, lips suddenly tightening, the scrape is gone and Dean is left shivering at the wet-warm all on its own.

Two, three more bobs of their head and Cas pulls back with a sticky pop that has Dean twitching as he leaves his spouse’s lips. Then his jeans are being ya led down his thighs, the light pluck of one or two seams ripping is all but lost in the thump of heartbeat in his ear. Cas’s keen baby blues don’t leave him for a second, even as the jeans and clattering belt are thrown somewhere into the abyss outside their bed.

“Ple…”

The sounds slipping from his mouth could hardly be counted as words, let alone conscious ones. Cas seems to take pity on him, not even scolding him for starting to ask for what he hasn’t been given. Their cheeks are flushed perfectly, but there are nearly no other signs that Cas is the least bit affected. Well, other than the way their hips are grinding down on air in smooth rolls that do all kinds of things to Dean’s sex-flooded brain. 

But as much fun as _that_ kind of sexy times is, it’s not what’s on the menu tonight. 

“I think you’re ready for me now,” Cas’s voice is nearly a whiskey-soaked purr as they push Dean’s legs even farther apart. The strategically placed lube behind the Kleenex box on the nightstand had been Cas’s one caveat. They’d refused to do anything dry, or even the little bit of fingering Dean had tried his damnedest to negotiate for. Dean had maybe sorta realized Cas had a point, only reluctantly agreeing. Now he could hardly give a fuck about any of the nitty gritty, just so long as Cas keeps on touching him.

“Caaa—” Dean bites his lip around a cry when the plug is replaced by two slick fingers that thrust into him. It’s a flood of _too much_ and _so fucking full_ that the wind nearly knocks out of him.

“You were made for me weren’t you?” The blunt nails of Cas’s other hand scratch down his chest, “Imagine how well you’ll take my cock when you’re already riding down on my fingers.”

Dean’s hips twitch downward just at those simple words, “Je…” Jesus H. Christ—he really _is_ , isn’t he?

The scraping fingers zero in on the peaks of his nipples, twisting and pinching and abusing the sensitive little nubs like they own him. And _God_ do they ever. Some functioning part of Dean’s brain recognizes the distraction for what it is since a real werewolf probably wouldn’t be stretching Dean so thoroughly to prep him for the monster in Cas’s pants. And as much as he might want it all a little more rough than Cas is generally comfortable with, he at least has the presence of mind to be grateful Cas doesn’t intend on literally ripping him a new asshole.

It’s maybe twenty seconds or twenty minutes of steady thrusting before Cas re-lubes and slides in another digit. Dean is a gasping mess, pushing back against the intrusion. Almost immediately Cas is slipping in a fourth finger, going deep but unbearably slow. The stretch is...unreal. He’s pretty sure he and Cas have never tried shoving anything more than three fingers’ width up his ass before but...is this what _childbirth_ is like? He’ll have to ask Cas later.

The thought flickers out of Dean’s head a second later when he feels the stiff ridge of Cas’s zipper rubbing against his thigh. Now, with four ( _four!_ ) fingers up his ass and lube coating his hole like a greased up tunnel, he’s suddenly reminded of how large the bulge Cas is rutting against him really is.

“Keep your legs spread, boy,” to accentuate their point, Cas pushes his knees out even wider with their own. God, that growl, “Going to fill you up so good. Are you ready?”

Only sounds dribble from Dean’s lips, “Ynhh…”

The slick thrusts slow a little, enough so that it feels like Dean is taking his first deep breath in hours. The hand that had been plucking at his nipples grasps his jaw in a way that’s rough but has no intention of actually causing harm.

“Beg for it, Dean,” Cas says, the grip loosens almost imperceptibly making the hold more of a rough caress than anything, “Remember—good boys use their words, and only good boys get my cock.”

With the digits in him only sliding in at a teasingly slow pace, Dean’s brain simmers down a little and he licks his lips.

“I-I want it. Want it so bad...p-please? Can I have it?”

The smile that pulls at Cas’s lips is fucking _feral_ and from one blink to the next they almost look like a completely different person. Maybe Cas should start doing plays or beer commercials or something— _fuck_.

“So good for me, aren’t you?” The click-click-click of Cas’s zipper in the humid quiet of the room has a fresh wave of goosebumps shivering out across Dean’s skin, “All mine to take.”

Then he feels it.

The silicone cock rests in the dip between his thigh and his own rigid length. It almost tricks his endorphin-addled brain with the way the smooth material is hot from being tucked tight in Cas’s pants all night.

“Holy…”

His spouse’s hand is already drawing the behemoth into their lubed fist, drawing up and down in tantalizing strokes that have Dean fucking shaking.

“All mine.”

Any and all thoughts go up in smoke when Cas starts to push in, all the way until the ungodly smooth head pops into Dean. His hole may be gaping, but the stretch still steals his breath as his hands grab for Cas’s shoulders.

Before any real thoughts, let alone words, can form a coherent order, Cas’s lips are back on Dean overwhelming him with sounds and smells and sensation.

Cas is slightly more gentle than they had been with their fingers, easing in with all the care they usually show Dean—scene or not.

“Ba…” Dean sputters, “ _Shiiiit_.”

Time nearly stands still as Cas slips each inch in with painstaking carefulness. This has to be what childbirth is like--hell, Dean’s definitely making all the same panting gasping noises Cas had.

Finally, the fake knot sits flush with his asshole and Cas goes nearly still.

“There we go, there we go,” deft fingers brush a strand of hair from Dean’s sweaty forehead. It’s way more tender than any mysterious werewolf hook-up, but it feels good for Cas to be so close. They breathe the same air for a moment, his spouse kissing and mumbling sappy stuff at his temple. God, he’s seeing _stars_ in the blue eyes watching over him. Suddenly he doesn’t want some Dr. Sexy fantasy to fuck him ‘til he howls at the moon. He doesn’t want some weird, unfeeling mysterio shit—he just wants Cas. _His_ Cas.

“C-Cas?”

His spouse, who’s settled almost like a weighted blanket across his chest draws back enough to get a full view of him.

“Yes?” Their brow furrows ever so slightly at the use of their name.

“Can, uh,” A warm wave of embarrassment rushes to his cheeks, the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, “I, um…”

The dark brooding mask they’ve had worn at the bar is gone now as they hold themselves steady above him. Always so patient when Dean can’t find the words.

“Yes, Dean?”

“I don’t wanna—heh, I, uh…” Cas’s eyes go wide and they start to draw the long cock from his ass. But before they can get more than an inch between Dean’s quaking hips and theirs, Dean hooks his ankles behind their back to keep them from leaving.

“Dean...?”

“I just...I wanna keep—y’know, doing this,” he rocks ever so slightly on the monster still impaling him and shivers at the perfect slide, “just want you to be... _you_ instead.”

“So you’d like me to keep utilizing this dildo but cease with all other aspects of the scene?”

Dean’s fingers twitch where they grip at Cas’s shoulders, cheeks pinkening even beyond his sweaty flush, “Can you, uh, still be a little rough, though?”

The furrow smooths away and the barest tick of a smile pulls at the corner of Cas’s mouth before they’re leaning in to capture Dean’s bitten lips.

“Of course.”

“Well, alright then--” Dean flexes his hooked legs, sliding another glorious half inch into himself, “S-Show me what you g-- _fuck!_ ” Dean doesn’t have more than a second to bask in the sweet drag of the cock sliding out of him before Cas is slamming home again, so deep Dean could almost swear he feels it under his ribs, “ _Jesus_...yeah…”

The thrusts pick up pace after that, quick snaps of hip that don’t force the stretch but have him damn near crying. Everything is moving and slapping and buzzing, tidal waves crashing against his stomach as the sensations roll through his body. The added burst of feeling whenever Cas’s lower belly hits his balls on every other thrust has him riding the edge sooner than he has in a long time. Fuck, yeah, he’s not going to last much longer--especially when Cas’s tongue gets involved again.

“Are you going to climax like this, Dean?” That sinful tongue traces figure-eights over the pulse point in the crook over his neck. Another wave of shivers wracks Dean’s body and his hips roll down on instinct, “So beautiful when you spill all over yourself. And the sounds you’re making…”

“C-Cas…”

Fingers pinch and pull at Dean’s rock-hard, pink nipples and he yelps as the zing of it shoots straight to his balls.

“So good for me, Dean,” Cas murmurs, hot breath warming Dean’s cheeks even more as they pant together. Then the digits disappear, but only for a second. 

At the first stinging, over sensitized, _holy-fuck_ scratch of Cas’s nails scraping his neglected dick--and that’s all she wrote. His orgasm punches through him, knocking the breath right out of his aching lungs in a groan that throws his head back against the pillow. 

He’s fucking _trembling_ as each pulse of his orgasm has him squeezing around the monster still keeping him deliciously full. Cas’s lips are gentle as they knead the tense column of his neck, tingling in the best way possible until the tension in Dean’s body snaps and he’s damn near boneless.

“ _Fuck._ ”

Cas chuckles, slowly slipping from Dean’s lax body and shooting a look of sympathy at his little wince. His spouse moves away to discard the strap-on, the coolness of drying sweat prickling Dean’s skin in the not-so-fun way. His eyes close and there are honest-to-God memory gaps. The only thing breaking up the darkness behind his eyelids are the sensations: the dip of the mattress, the shock of a warm, wet washcloth moving across him, then the mattress dipping once more as Cas tucks in at his side.

“That was to your satisfaction I take it?” 

Dean’s eyes blink open to the warm light of the lamp, head flopping to the side to catch dark blue eyes. Eyes with the tiniest traces of nervousness.

“Are you kiddin’?” He may be half Jell-O at this point, but Dean forces his limbs to reach out for Cas, kissing all over his temple and forehead with exaggerated ‘mwahs!’ that chase away all doubts, “That was fucking awesome. And the little bit of teeth earlier--dude, I’m _sooo_ leaving you a kick-ass Yelp review.”

“I can think of other ways you could show your appreciation,” Cas’s smirk is goddamn predatory and probably would’ve gotten Dean’s southern half going again if he were a decade younger. Now, all he feels is giddy as his hand slips down between them until he’s kneading over Cas’s soaked boxer.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Cas sighs around a hint of a smile, giving the faintest buck of their hips, “Perhaps when your energy returns, you could demonstrate to me the ways of the Magic Dragon.”

Dean’s belly laugh surprises him and Cas but it’s all the best kinda bubbly.

“It’s ‘Bad Dragon,’ buddy.”

“Is that not what I said?”

That damn brow furrow--making Dean weak in the knees like nothing else can.

“Close enough.”

“If you have enough energy to mock me,” Cas’s voice drops back down to a whiskey-low note, crowding closer until their lips are tickling Dean’s stubble, “then you must have energy to put your mouth to far better uses.”

“Anything for you... _Doctor_.”

**v^v^v^v^v _Fin_ ^v^v^v^v^v**

**Author's Note:**

> In the words of Justin Smith: "Rawrrr."
> 
> Thanks for reading :))


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